


Louder Than Words

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Affection, Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Pre-Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Sherlock asks Molly for a little extra assistance after his faked suicide. And as usual, she seems to be just what he needs. But little does Sherlock know, he'll end up learning more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is born from a prompt from @carsfanabby on tumblr. She requested "Molly trying to make Sherlock comfortable with physical affection."   
> I actually had a tough time with this at first. It seemed to me that post s4, Sherlock wouldn't be uncomfortable with affection. I couldn't picture him having difficulty with that, especially if he was in an actual relationship with Molly. But as is often the case, I mentioned it to Lexie and one of her brilliant lightbulbs materialized above her head and she got the idea to make this a little added history for sherlolly between s2 and s3. Once she got the initial idea, the plotting rolled along nicely! ;D

Sherlock got out of the cab with Janine, walking her to the door of her flat, fingers still laced tightly with hers. She stopped there, gazing up at him through her lashes.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” Janine murmured.

He gave her a playful little smirk while lifting their joined hands and pressing a kiss to the back of hers before slowly pulling his lips away.

“The good sort of surprises, I hope.”

“Mm,” she hummed in confirmation. “I hope you have more surprises in store for me, Sherl.”

He held back a roll of his eyes at the unsolicited nickname and instead caressed every inch of her face with his eyes.

“Perhaps...if you’re very good.”

“Oh, I am,” she stated confidently, leaning in and pressing a kiss near the corner of his lips. “Maybe you’ll find out one day.”

Sherlock smiled as he stepped back, letting her hand slip very slowly from his fingers as he did, as if he were reluctant to let her go. 

“I’ll call you.”

“And I can promise I’ll pick up,” she answered with a little wink while letting herself into her flat.

The door shut and Sherlock quickly returned to the cab, directing it to Baker St. His work was done for the night...though far from over completely. This plan had only just begun, and he knew that this first date was far from the last. Things had gone awfully well tonight though, so he was confident he’d be able to turn this into a full blown relationship in no time. He knew he had the skills to do so, and make it more than believable. 

He couldn’t help but remember that he’d learned from a very skilled teacher...

* * *

 

_Two Years Ago_

Sherlock wondered at the fact that his stomach did a small flip as his car pulled up on the airstrip and he saw her familiar face. It was strange seeing Molly Hooper in this setting, the bright tropical sun catching in her hair. Strange, but oddly comforting, like a small bit of home. 

He got out of the car as she walked with some difficulty down the steps of the jet with her carry on. And when their eyes met, Molly was naturally the one to initiate a warm smile.

“Molly, hello,” Sherlock greeted, giving her a small smile as well. “I appreciate you coming all this way.”

She glanced around and grinned again. “Well this place is hardly a punishment, is it?”

One of the airline attendants brought her second bag over and Sherlock took it.

“Come along,” he prompted. “Let’s get in the car and we’ll talk a bit more. I trust Mycroft briefed you?”

“Not really, to be honest. He just said I was needed, and I didn’t need much convincing beyond that. I had holiday time coming my way and it was so cold in London and then Mycroft said Belize so-”

“Right, yes, well I’ll give you the rest of the details on the way to the hotel,” Sherlock cut in while opening the door for her. “By the time we next exit this car you’ll need to be perfectly clear about our plan.”

Once the car was moving, Molly smiled at him expectantly while twiddling her fingers in her lap. “So…”

Sherlock cleared his throat.

“A few months ago, before my faked suicide, you told me that if I there was anything I needed, I could have you.”

Her gaze shifted nervously. “Well...yes.”

“You did just wonderfully at that time, helping me fake my death. But now it seems I need you for something a bit different.”

“Well then, what do you need this time?”

He smiled. “A wife.”

She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment before letting out a short laugh, which then dissolved quickly and again was replaced with wide eyed surprise.

“S-sorry, what? A...a wife?”

Sherlock fished in his pocket and took out an impressively large and sparkly wedding band and engagement ring set.

“Size 4.5 I believe,” he stated, handing them over as she hesitantly reached out to accept them.

He also took out a plain band from his pocket, slipping it onto his own ring finger before grinning at her.

“I imagine you have some questions.”

* * *

 

Sherlock swiped the key card to allow them entry into the hotel suite, a little amused at the way Molly’s jaw hit the floor as she crossed the threshold. 

“You approve?”

“It’s...wow, I mean- just-” she stammered while turning and gawking at the beautiful sitting room and balcony which connected to the large master bedroom. “Gosh, if you’re going to be undercover looking for criminals, I suppose this is the way to do it.”

“Yes well, the possible connection to Moriarty’s web is a local man who works in real estate,” he explained while rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I’ve already made an appointment with him and we should be seeing some properties within our price range tomorrow. Remember, you’re awfully excited about owning our own vacation property here, but I need a bit more convincing.”

“Got it,” Molly agreed with a little nod as she took a seat on the bed, though she then looked over at him in question. “Oh, is...is this the only room?”

Sherlock raised a brow. “Problem?”

“Oh no no, it’s fine,” she hurried to insist, though turned a little pink. “I was just, you know, asking.”

“I’ll barely sleep,” Sherlock assured her casually. “And besides, it’s a rather-”

“Large bed,” they said in unison.

Molly smiled shyly, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Well I’ll just um, maybe go have a shower? I’ve been in the air a long- Wh-what are you doing?!”

Sherlock halted in the middle of unzipping her suitcase. “Simply checking to be sure you packed as instructed. We’ll have to be seen around the hotel right away, which means probably doing a bit of small talk with people here.” He caught sight of Molly’s frown. “Honestly, Molly, you can hardly blame me. You don’t typically dress like a newly wealthy young woman on a Caribbean holiday!”

“I got a few items from Anthea, if you must know. You don’t have to worry that I’ll be wearing trousers and jumpers!” she countered in a playfully defensive tone while snatching the suitcase from him. 

“Regardless of what I wear though, my complexion won’t exactly match the surroundings,” she added on her way to the bathroom. “Suppose it’s fitting that I’ll look a bit like death warmed over!” She let out a little snort laugh before clearing her throat and disappearing behind the bathroom door.

Sherlock’s mouth quirked up in mild amusement at her awkward joke. It was admittedly interesting to interact with Molly in this setting. There was no dead body lying between them. No John Watson, or Inspector Lestrade, or Mike Stamford. No buffer of any sort. Just Molly Hooper. He honestly wondered how this would go and hoped that she’d be up to the task of assisting in an actual undercover mission.

And on the subject of blending in...Sherlock glanced at the hotel suite’s wardrobe with his suits and dress shirts hanging neatly in a row, noting that this is probably where they all needed to stay for the duration of his “holiday.” 

It was time for him to look the part as well.

* * *

 

Sherlock strolled back and forth down the hallway of the hotel in his khaki shorts and short sleeved button down, having stepped out to send some texts while waiting for Molly. 

DID SHE ARRIVE SAFELY? -MYCROFT

YES. WE SETTLED IN LAST NIGHT AND ARE PLANNING TO MAKE CONTACT WITH THE AGENT THIS MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST. -SH

DO GIVE MY BEST TO THE MISSUS...HAPPY HOUSE HUNTING. -MYCROFT

Sherlock rolled his eyes. The utmost security was needed these days, not only because he was supposed to be dead, but also because he was currently undercover. He had no idea how much longer it would take for him to be able to safely return to London, but it would do no good to blow the whole thing this early on. Might cause a massive setback.

The door to their room opened and Molly came out, wearing a coral colored sundress with large white floral pattern, straw hat over her side braided hair, and sandals. Even Sherlock had to admit that she looked like the personification of a sunny day.

“You see? Told you I’d be dressed properly.” She grinned and began marching down the hallway, reminding him to put one foot in front of the other.

As they approached the bottom of the steps to the main dining hall, Sherlock startled slightly as he felt Molly slip her arm around his. This triggered an instantly nervous look in Molly’s eyes.

“S-sorry, I just-” she whispered, “I thought we were supposed to be married, so shouldn't I be doing things like this? But I- I can stop if-”

“No no, you’re- you’re right. Good...thinking.” He gave her a tight smile and wondered why this ruse suddenly seemed more complex now than it had in his head some twenty four hours ago.

A few minutes later Molly came up to him at the fruit table in the dining hall, placing her hand on his back as she did.

“Darling, they’ve just brought out fresh coffee. Shall I get you a cup?”

Sherlock swallowed thickly and could only give her a smile and nod in answer. 

He took a seat at their little table and a few minutes later she came walking over to set their coffee down. As she did, she let her hand slide the breadth of his shoulders and then reach up to briefly caress his cheek. 

“I’ll just set these down and go back to grab my breakfast. They’re making fresh omelettes over at that station!” she said excitedly with a little grin. 

Sherlock let out a heavy breath as she removed her hand and walked away. 

Good God, who was this woman? This was not the Molly Hooper he was used to. Suddenly, she wasn’t hesitating or speaking in broken sentences. She had taken an unexpectedly smooth and skillful dive into this undercover role, and was excelling at making it believable. It was actually rather impressive. He could fully admit now, in comparison, that all he’d imagined was that Molly would provide a necessary female form to walk beside him and complete his undercover persona. Seeing how she really was left him thinking that he may actually be the one falling short. 

Yes, she was right, they needed to be a typical young married couple. And that would involve some frequent affection in the form of touching. Somehow he hadn’t really thought much about that aspect. He really wished he had...he would have done a bit of research. 

No matter though, he thought. Because apparently Molly was well versed in the body language of a committed relationship. Since she was already here, may as well get some pointers from her. There was something effortless and natural about her physical behavior with him, and he didn’t yet feel equipped to duplicate that.

Molly took her seat across from him a minute later. She began casually sipping her coffee and cutting into her veggie omelette, but finally stopped and looked back at Sherlock with a frown when she registered the fact that he was still staring at her.

“What?”

Sherlock smiled evenly at her. “You’re good at this,” he stated in a low whisper.

Her brow furrowed in mild confusion. “This?”

He gestured between them. “This. Us. Being undercover.”

“Oh,” she chirped. “Well, I mean, it’s not terribly difficult. It’s not as if I haven’t had a serious relationship before- I mean, not that you haven’t! Though, I suppose I don’t know for sure if you have or not. But I would assume that at some point you’d have had some sort of-”

“Teach me.”

She halted at his words, eyes widening again. “ _Teach_ you?”

He nodded. “You’re better at this than I am. Not my area, I admit. It would be stupid for me to risk the mission with subpar acting as a husband when you could help me drastically improve. So...will you teach me?”

She paused in silence for a moment, her eyes even narrowing briefly, as if trying to read between the invisible lines. Finally, very slowly, she inhaled and gave her soft but noticeably steady answer.

“Ok.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for undercover coziness! :D

The local real estate agent Carl Danvers was clearly not a man to be trusted. If Sherlock didn’t have reason to suspect his connection to some of Moriarty’s men, he’d still never choose to have any dealings with him. The man seemed to ooze dishonesty.

Not that Sherlock and Molly were the very picture of honesty themselves.

Molly cozied up to Sherlock, hanging on his arm all afternoon, tracing little circles on his skin with her fingertips as Mr. Danvers drawled on about how many features each property had to offer.

For his part, Sherlock began making it a habit to place a gentle but supportive hand on her back as they walked up stairs or moved from one room to another. A habit like that was easy enough to get into, and after a while he didn’t need to remind himself...

* * *

 

“Ok so, the most important thing is not to overthink what you’re doing,” Molly had said to him during the cab ride, the first time they had the opportunity for her to teach him how to be an attentive husband.

“In what way?” Sherlock had asked.

Molly paused, obviously considering how to word things. “Well it’s not as if a husband would actually need to sit there and plan, ‘let’s see, how should I be affectionate with my wife?’ The reality is that a new couple, married or dating, would just naturally want to be affectionate. They’d want to touch each other almost all the time. Even just in conversation they’d-” She reached out toward him but then stopped. “Can I, um, demonstrate?”

“You’ve been touching me already this morning, I think I’be proven myself up to the task,” he stated flatly.

She nodded. “Right, so they’d just be casually and frequently touching each other even during normal conversation.” She laid her hand over his knee, but kept her eyes on his. “Not really having to acknowledge or make a thing of it. It would just be...happening.”

Sherlock’s eyes flitted down to the slender hand that covered his knee and then back to meet her gaze. “Ah...I think I see.”

“And maybe you’re talking to me, but all the while your hand is resting on the back of my neck, maybe putting some pressure on that little spot near the side that gets a bit tight, because as my husband you’d know that. Again, it’s just a little thing, but something like that is thoughtful as well as kind of sexy.”

“Hm,” he responded, considering the concept.

After a brief hesitation, Sherlock had placed his hand at the back of her neck just as she’d described, using his thumb to press against the muscle that he imagined could be stiff from bending over cadavers all day.

Molly’s eyes clamped shut. “Yep...like that,” she murmured blissfully before remembering herself and opening her eyes again at the sound of Sherlock chuckling lightly.

“In general, just look for ways to have some kind of contact with me,” Molly continued explaining. “It doesn’t have to be over the top, but it should be frequent.”

Sherlock pursed his lips as his hand left the back of her neck. “Seems easy enough.”

Molly nodded, smiling brightly. “It should be pretty easy, yeah. Just pretend that you wish you could be all over me all the time, but that’s not quite possible so you have to take what you can get.”

He had rolled his eyes. “Are couples really like this?”

“Most new couples are,” she confirmed. “I spent a lot of time with friends in Uni who seemed to be plastered together every second they were in the same room! Sitting on laps, draped across each other, constantly kissing and caressing...it can be a bit intense.”

“A bit idiotic,” Sherlock huffed.

“Well then, you’ll have to do your best to play the idiot!” Molly had said with a little laugh.

* * *

 

A squeeze of his hand by Molly brought him back to listen to whatever the real estate agent was saying. Sherlock had managed to glean all the he could from the man at least ten minutes ago, so he’d zoned out.

“Darling, I love this one,” Molly said with an impressively convincing little smile. “What do you think?”

“Hm…” Sherlock glanced around them again, trying to appear unsure before meeting Mr. Danvers gaze again. “It’s a big decision, you understand.”

“I do indeed,” the man agreed with a wink at the couple. “Can’t go leaping into something before you’re really sure. But I can guarantee you that none of the other properties ticked off all the boxes on your checklist like this one! I think you’ll be hard pressed to find its equal.”

Sherlock almost left character as he felt Molly’s hand slide up his chest.

“Oh he’s right, it really does have everything!”

He smiled down at her. “You do make it difficult to say no.”

This earned him a genuine blush.

“Well you two can take some time to think of course,” Mr. Danvers said, beginning to lead the way to the door. “I’ll be back in touch tomorrow to see if you’ve settled on one of these fine places yet.”

“We thank you for your time,” Sherlock said warmly, shaking his hand. “And what a fascinating career you’ve had. I thank you for indulging me and answering all my silly questions about your many travels!”

“He’s so nosey sometimes,” Molly said to the agent with a little laugh as she nudged Sherlock affectionately.

“Not to worry,” Mr. Danvers said proudly. “Happy to share! I have had quite a few adventures.”

“Enviable to be sure,” Sherlock gushed as he opened the cab door for Molly and smiled to himself while waving their goodbyes.

They were quickly getting exactly what they needed.

* * *

 

“Gosh, house hunting is exhausting,” Molly exclaimed, flopping onto the freshly made bed in their room.

“The acting can be draining as well,” Sherlock added, though Molly switched topics instead of agreeing.

“And it’s almost dinner time. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast!” She plucked the hotel’s information booklet from the bedside table. “Oh...you know there’s a little outdoor barbecue with dancing on the beach tonight.”

Sherlock sighed. “We should probably attend.”

“W-well we don’t have to go to that,” Molly quickly assured him, sensing his tone. “I just happened to see it so-”

“No no, I don’t mean we should because you brought it up. I mean to keep up appearances as a normal married couple.”

“Oh.” Molly bobbed her head in a little nod and smiled. “Well then I’ll clean up a bit and get ready to head downstairs.”

Sherlock stepped out onto the balcony for a few minutes while Molly was in the bathroom. He peered down the way to the beach. The sun was just beginning to set and hotel staff had started grilling food. He could see the band setting up as well.

“Ok, I think I’m pretty much ready,” Molly announced.

Sherlock was taken aback a little when he turned to look at her and stepped slowly into the room from the balcony.  
“Your hair is…” He cleared his throat. “It looks nice.”

She had taken the french braid out, which naturally created some waves. She pinned a bit of it off her face to the side, but other than that it was loose and flowing, cascading down her shoulders and back in warm chocolate waves.

“Thanks.” She touched it unconsciously while accepting the compliment. “Oh! So I was thinking, if we’re going to go down to the beach and look the part, we should probably go over dancing.”

Molly stepped over closer, clearly ready to do some teaching.

Sherlock straightened his shoulders a bit and grinned confidently. “I had the same thought. But perhaps this is an area in which I can offer some assistance.”

“Oh? You dance? Well that’s lovely, that’ll make things easier.”

“Mm, I can confidently say that this is my area.”

Sherlock placed his right hand in the proper position around Molly’s back on her shoulder blade, and then he held out his left hand for her to take. But that was when Molly began giggling up at him.

“What exactly is so funny?” Sherlock questioned indignantly.

“Sherlock, what sort of dancing is this?”

He frowned. “Proper dancing! What sort were you imagining?”

Molly tried to still her giggles. “Well, this is definitely a very...proper stance you have set up but, um, we’re not in a ballroom dancing competition.”

He tilted his head in continued confusion.

“Sherlock, this isn’t how _couples_ dance,” she went on. “At least, not typically. Haven’t you ever, y’know, just...slow danced? Here,” she offered, “lemme show you.”

Molly took his hand that was already around her back and moved it significantly south, then placed his outstretched one around her waist as well. She draped her arms around his neck, standing chest to chest with him, and then smiled.

“There. This is how couples usually dance.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly, feeling the lightweight fabric of her cheerful dress beneath his fingers where he gripped her waist.

“Hardly qualifies as dancing,” he protested weakly.

Molly shrugged. “Maybe true. It’s more like swaying. But I don’t think that most couples on a dance floor are really interested in much else besides holding each other close while listening to romantic music. Honestly that’s what it’s all about.”

Sherlock suddenly sucked in a breath as he felt a couple of Molly’s fingers drift into the curls at the base of his hairline. It sent an unexpectedly pleasant shiver up his spine. He released his hold on her and stepped away.

“Right, well I’ve got the general Idea. it seems almost pathetically simple and frankly a waste of a good dance floor,” he announced quickly with a nervous little ruffle of his hair, picking up their room key and putting it in his pocket. “I’d say we can head to the beach now.”

* * *

 

Sherlock glanced over at Molly, sitting back in her lounge chair and sipping some red sangria. They’d had some much needed food and chatted up some of the other guests as much as was necessary, and had now been relaxing on the beach for the past half hour.

Sherlock had been using the time to mentally planning his next move with Danvers, which he was pretty sure would have to include a trip to the man’s flat, but he now took note of how Molly’s attention had turned to the dance floor. She was sitting up in her chair and had set her wine glass down on the table as she watched the band and the few couples on the dance floor.  
He realized that most of the other couples on that beach were either dancing or huddled together engaged in what looked like conversation meant only for two. And yet there he was, standing many feet away from his “wife” who was watching the dance floor from afar. They probably weren’t blending in properly.

Time to put that poor excuse for dancing into practice.

“Molly?” Sherlock reached out his hand to her, and as she took it she gave him what seemed to be a very genuinely pleased smile.

“It really is so nice out here, I’m glad we’re getting to do this,” Molly said quietly as she slid her arms around his neck one they had joined the other couples.

“Can’t neglect blending in,” Sherlock excused, though the words sounded a little hollow now when coming from his lips.

“So...how much longer till you’re done?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Probably within the week I’ll have all I need.”

“Really?” Molly’s face lit up. “Well that’s a relief. I mean, I know it’s only been a few months, but it really does seem like forever since you’ve been-”

“No, Molly,” Sherlock interrupted, feeling a little sorry to do so. “I don’t mean that I’ll be returning to London within the week. I mean I’ll be done _here_. But then I’ll be moving on to somewhere else.”

“Oh,” she replied softly, obviously a little deflated. “Well then, how long do you think...till you do come home?”

“Longer than I care to estimate,” was his honest answer.

Molly nodded and gave him a resigned smile, and he could swear that her fingertips began gripping the back of his neck just a bit tighter.

“I didn’t really say it yet but, um, thanks for asking me here to help you with this,” she added a moment later.

“There’s hardly anyone else available to ask, is there?” Sherlock instantly responded, but the moment he did he could see that his automatically disconnected tone and cold wording had made her feel about two inches tall. He kicked himself because that was the very last way he wanted to make Molly Hooper feel. Not now, not after all they’d been through together and all she’d done for him.

Sherlock licked his lips. “Sorry I...I didn’t mean it exactly like that. I meant…” He paused, seeing her expectant eyes staring up at him. “I meant, who else would I ever want to ask? Of course I’d immediately think of you.”

A pleasant blush covered her cheeks and nose as she smiled, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Sherlock smiled back at her, and in that same moment he realized that his hands had begun instinctively and rhythmically caressing her lower back as they swayed. He actually liked the feeling; the smooth curve of her back and the way the light fabric of her dress moved a bit over her skin. Her dress was soft, but for a split second he actually found himself wondering just how much softer the skin beneath that fabric would be…

Sherlock blinked rapidly for a moment, wondering what recesses of his mind that thought had come from. And ironically, just as he was deciding to bring his mind back in order, Molly leaned forward.

Molly turned her head to rest her cheek comfortably on his chest and somehow, despite the fact that he would have said he didn’t know what he was doing, Sherlock’s hands automatically locked more tightly around her back and he leaned his head forward to rest his cheek against her hair. He felt her warmth and breathed in her subtly sweet scent, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t felt this intensely grounded and serene in months.

Molly was the one to step away as the music faded out and then they both walked back to their lounge chairs. She leaned in as they sat down and lowered her voice.

“Hope you don’t mind that I did that. Y’know, leaning on you. I saw another couple dancing like that and it just seemed like a good idea...to blend in.”

Sherlock nodded, his lips twitching up in a brief smile. “Yes, blending in, of course. It was perfectly fine.”

He settled back in his chair and tried to take deep breaths in through his nose and exhale slowly from his mouth, seeing as his pulse was attempting to break a record at the moment.

 _Perfectly fine_ , he repeated mentally. No, that was definitely a lie. It wasn’t perfectly fine. Not even close. It was more than that...

 _He liked it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have some fluff, but will also shift to some more serious feels. I mean, this is post TRF...there's gotta be some angst on the horizon. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda sorta really liked writing this chapter hehe...enjoy! ;D

Wind whipped against Sherlock’s face and back, making his place on the roof’s edge all the more frightening. He looked down at his mobile again, seeing that he still hadn’t received an answer to any of the five texts he’d sent his brother. He glanced over his shoulder again, seeing Moriarty’s body and desperately wondering what his options were now. What choices did he have left?

He peered over the edge of the roof and scanned the streets below...nobody.

There wasn’t a single soul around, nobody to see or hear him. And yet, he knew there were people watching. He may not be able to see anyone, but he knew that Moriarty’s men were standing by somewhere, waiting for him to jump. Waiting to see him die.

His hands started to shake as he checked his mobile this time, and after being disappointed again he threw it down on the roof instead of placing it back in his pocket.

He thought of John and Lestrade and dear Mrs. Hudson, none of whom had asked to be a part of this mess. He could see each of their faces clear as day, and the thought of any of them suffering caused his eyes to fill and a tear to slip down his cheek. It couldn’t be allowed to happen. None of them should have to suffer for him. And apparently there was only one way to prevent that now.

Sherlock closed his eyes...and fell forward.

* * *

 

“Sherlock! Sherlock! Wake up! It’s ok! Sherlock, you’re ok!”

He startled awake, his eyes flying open and darting around the darkened hotel room, his brain catching on quickly to difference between dreams and memories, grateful for the comfort of reality. And then he looked up, seeing Molly sitting there on the arm of the chair he’d dozed off in. He did his best to relax his expression and tone of voice, not wanting to alarm her.

“Th-thank you, Molly,” he managed. “Just a um…”

“A nightmare?” she asked gently.

He gave her only a brief nod in answer.

“Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not too often,” he answered, knowing full well that it would depend whether one considered weekly to be often.

“Understandable you have nightmares,” Molly said, standing from the arm of the chair and looking down at him with concern etched on her features. “You jumped off the top of a building and most of the people you love think you’re dead. It’s the least that’s expected.”

Sherlock said nothing and closed his eyes again, unable to argue but unwilling to dive into the topic.

“Come on, you should get in the bed.”

His eyes opened again and he frowned up at her. “Molly, that’s hardly necessary-”

“Sherlock, shut up and get in the bed,” she stated in a tone that left no room for argument.

Well, if she insisted.

Sherlock got up and dutifully followed her, climbing in on the empty side and enjoying the feel of a luxurious mattress.

They’d been there together for four days now, and thus far he’d either been up during much of the nighttime hours, or had napped briefly in the chair or couch. It wasn’t so much that he felt he shouldn’t be in the bed with her...it simply hadn’t happened. And it wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bed with her before. He’d certainly invaded her cozy little bed on more than one occasion in London.

_London._

Sherlock glanced over at the woman settling in beside him and felt as close to his beloved city as he had for months. Which was probably what suddenly propelled him to ask his next question.

“Molly?”

“Hm?”

“How is...everyone back home?”

There was a pregnant pause in the darkness beside him, and for a moment he wondered if she hadn’t heard.

“You mean John?” she finally asked.

“John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson...everyone,” he repeated.

He heard her shifting, turning to face him as she spoke.

“Sherlock, they’re- well, they’re destroyed.” She spoke the words as gently as possible, but naturally there was nothing that could make the answer to his question truly early to swallow.

He stared up at the ceiling fan, whirring hypnotically above him. “You’ve seen them regularly then?”

“Lestrade the most. You know, for work. I saw Mrs. Hudson a few times. At the funeral of course, and then I’ve been to visit to check in. And John...well, I’ve only seen him a couple times. He’s mostly keeping to himself.”

Sherlock swallowed down the lump that had rapidly formed in his throat. “I see.”

After a moment she whispered to him again. “Sorry.”

Sherlock turned then. “Molly, don’t be sorry. I asked.”

“I know, I just- I hate to tell you how it really is because I realize you didn’t have much choice and it doesn’t help your current situation to know how hurt and angry everyone is back home.”

“Angry?” he questioned, a little surprised at the choice of wording. “You mean because I said I lied about everything?”

“No, Sherlock. Because you chose to kill yourself.”

He frowned, considering this.

“Taking your own life doesn’t mean you’re taking much from yourself,” Molly continued, explaining gently. “I mean, you’re not going to be missing anything once you’re gone, after all. You’re taking yourself away from everyone else; from everyone who loved you. They’re the ones who’ll miss you when you’re gone. So of course they’re hurt and angry that you’d do that to them.”

The full weight of the deception was a bit clearer to him when he looked at it in that light.

“I wish I could reassure them, tell them...something,” she added softly.

Now it was his turn to feel the need to apologize.

“Forgive me, Molly. You shouldn’t have to bear that load.”

He could make out the slight motion of her shaking her head in the darkness. “No, it’s ok. Honestly, I’d do it again and I understand, really I do. It hurts but I also know how important this is. I get that it’ll be worth it in the end.”

He watched her profile, wondering to himself for hardly the first time what he’d ever done to deserve a friend so constant and understanding. This felt nice. Lying there looking over at her next to him. There was something lovely about her just...being there. The undefinable sensation of having another warm body within arm’s reach. And it wasn’t just any body, he was well aware. It was Molly Hooper, and he was beginning to realize that that made all the difference.

“I do wish you’d come home soon though,” Molly stated sadly, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I mean, I might know you’re alive but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. Might be even harder after this, going back to London without you.”

He wasn’t sure why, because he didn’t usually feel the need to do such things, but he reached over under the covers and plucked her hand from off her stomach to hold in his.

“Thank you...for missing me.”

Molly’s head naturally whipped over to look at him when he did this and she was silent for a long time, her fingers simply returning the pleasant pressure that his initiated. Finally he heard her draw a breath.

“I can’t exactly help it, Sherlock. How could I not miss you?”

Neither of them said anything after that. They both fell asleep soon after, their hands still intertwined.

And when Sherlock woke up hours later to the sun shining through the opening in the drapes, he couldn’t help but feel a pleasant warmth flood his chest as he turned his head.

Molly had rolled over a bit, and although she wasn’t exactly on him, her face was nuzzled against his shoulder and her hand was draped around his forearm. She was so peaceful, so content just like that. He hated to disturb her.

So he didn’t. Sherlock lay there very happily for the next hour, alternating between watching her and thinking a little about the undercover work at hand. Eventually she did wake on her own accord.

Sherlock did an excellent job of pretending to wake at the very same time.

* * *

 

“So you’re sure they’ll be there?” Molly asked while quickly twisting her hair up and pinning it in a swirl at the back of her head as they rode in the cab.

“I believe so, yes. The texts I was able to read on Mr. Danvers phone gave me an idea of who else to keep an eye on, and thankfully one of them was a hotel staff member. The timing worked well that I overheard that conversation about the confidential ‘business meeting’ this afternoon.”

Molly nervously tugged at her bright pink shorts and filmy yellow tank top which she’d thrown over her bright floral two piece bathing suit. They had come directly from the pool where Sherlock overheard this conversation between two of the outside waiters.

The pool had become a routine in the past three days actually. He and Molly usually shared one of the oversized lounge chairs, snuggling close as Sherlock listened to nearby conversations while lazily running fingertips up and down her smooth arm. A couple times, under the gaze of hotel staff, he’d leaned down, pressing slow kisses to the sun-warmed skin on her shoulder. Each time he would then feel her shiver just a bit next to him, but the look in her eyes would tell him that she was anything but cold.

Sherlock couldn’t help but have a little inward laugh at imagining the look on John’s face if he could witness such a scene.

Sherlock had the cab stop a bit before the designated location so they could walk the rest of the way and be more low profile.

They linked hands as soon as they left the cab and began strolling along the side of the road.

“The entrance to the private beach is here,” Sherlock stated quietly when they arrived. “There’s no gate, as I saw online earlier. All we have to do is act like we’re supposed to be here. It’s a small community of about a dozen beachfront houses, but it’s unlikely that anyone will confront us and demand proof that we can be there.”

“If anyone gets nosey we can always just play dumb and act like we didn’t see the signs,” Molly added, but he could tell she was a little nervous based on how tightly she was holding his hand now.

They strolled down the sandy path through the trees till they reached the clearing, and it truly was just beautiful. Definitely the sort of exclusive bit of property that a wealthy bunch would want to hide from the general public. Almost as soon as they’d arrived, Sherlock spotted a couple of men standing a stone’s throw away and deep in conversation. That seemed promising.

“Just a bit closer, Molly,” he murmured in her ear, probably appearing to be whispering sweet nothings to any possible onlookers.

They advanced enough so that Sherlock could catch bits of conversation and he immediately became hyper focused, listening and storing every phrase and bit of information possible. He could always take time to piece them together later as long as he had it all available in his mind. That’s all this was; just harvesting information.

Sherlock wasn’t really watching the two men but was instead facing the ocean while keeping his ear in their direction, so it was Molly who first took notice of a potential problem.

“Oh God. Um, Sherlock, they’re looking at us,” she whispered while threading her arm around his waist.

He leaned down to kiss her neck lightly and in doing so gave himself a brief glance which confirmed what she’d seen. Yes the two men certainly did seem to be focusing on him and Molly now.

“Can’t run now,” Sherlock, whispered quickly. “That would confirm their suspicion. We just need to show them-”

He stopped speaking before actually saying that they needed to show their onlookers that they weren’t interested in anything else going on around them. But in admitting that to himself...Sherlock knew what they needed to do. He dipped his head down near her ear again, while stepping over closer to the trees at the edge of the sand, and began speaking rapidly.

“Molly we have less than fifteen seconds before those men do more than stare and begin walking over here, so we don’t have the luxury of time to discuss this in depth but I need to ask if I can kiss you. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, and I swear I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think-”

“Ok!”

Her instant answer threw him off a bit. “Ok?”

“Yes, I said ok!” she hissed in a panicky voice. “Just kiss me, quick!”

Her tone rushed him more than he had perhaps even planned, and before he could put any further thought into it...he crashed his lips into hers.

In that first moment it truly was little more than a collision; hard and fast and full of confusion. It was Molly’s arms that seemed to ground and organize the situation. She wrapped them securely around Sherlock’s neck, pulling herself in snug against his body and then tilting her head to slant her mouth against his.

Sherlock’s head instantly began to spin with the shifted angle and deepening of their kiss, feeling like he might just topple over. His hand darted out, touching a tree to confirm where it was and then literally lifting and swinging her around, hearing a small squeak from her as he did, before setting her feet down again so her back was at the tree. She needed no verbal prompting to make use of her new position and brace her weight against it, though still holding him just as tightly.

Sherlock next felt her grab his hand and shove it under her top and onto her bare stomach, the contact eliciting an unsteady exhale from her which he could feel against his tongue. She tugged her lips free for just a split second, murmuring a breathless explanation.

“Remember, we’re married,” she gasped. “Should look realis-”

Sherlock easily understood her meaning so didn’t allow her to speak further, finding himself impatient and desperate with even that minuscule interruption and needing to reconnect. So he pushed her lips apart with his and consumed her mouth again with renewed vigor while keeping his hand firmly in place on her middle, just below where he knew he shouldn’t venture. He spared a fraction of thought to note though, the surprising fact that he did have to tell himself not to cross that invisible line. He had to tell himself because in that moment...he actually wished he could.

Molly curled her fingers at the back of his head, creating a gentle tug at his hair which made his eyes fly open in a pleasant sort of shock. It just so happened that this also gave him the visual of the two men leaving the beach. He and Molly must have very effectively stamped out any previous concern they had. In the same moment he realized they’d already been successful though, without thought...he instinctively shut his eyes again and sunk right back into the kiss.

He half questioned what in the world he was still doing, but in reality he already knew the answer. This was a force more powerful than he was used to; a craving similar to the high created by substances that were terrible and dangerous. Which seemed so strange in comparison, to think that a being as beautiful and pure as Molly Hooper could create the same intensity of sensation as something so deadly and destructive.

Sherlock continued to experiment with his mouth and hers, more leisurely now, trying some of the things he’d felt Molly do with her tongue and teeth, all the while holding her firmly against him with fingers digging into the bare skin of her torso. His efforts seemed successful too, seeing as he felt Molly clinging more tightly around his shoulders and sighing more loudly into his mouth. Her reactions, he noted, were actually one of the most pleasurable parts of the whole experience.

Though, it was Molly who finally pulled away a second later.

“Oh,” she breathed out before swallowing thickly. “I think...I think they’re gone.”

Sherlock looked around while gasping for breath, pretending that he needed to confirm for himself.

“I- I see that, yes.” He blew out a heavily exhale through his lips as Molly’s arms left his neck and she stepped away.

His fingers automatically flexed against his empty palms, grabbing for something that wasn’t there anymore. God, how was it possible that he already missed the feeling of her skin beneath his hands?

“Sh-should we, um…” Molly gestured toward the exit path, clearly still catching her breath and perhaps not knowing what to do with her arms as well. She awkwardly placed them around her middle before switching her hands to her hips.

“We should,” he confirmed quickly and lead the way.

Sherlock and Molly walked back to the road to catch a cab, they rode all the way back to the hotel, and they walked up to the building and through the corridors to their suite again. All the while they both said nothing, both doing their best to avoid conversation and even eye contact. A very obviously weighty silence was what now filled the space between them. And there was more than silence of course, too much probably. Things they’d felt and done that couldn’t be forgotten whether pretend or not, and it couldn’t be ignored. For Sherlock though, everything between them wasn’t the only thing he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about less than an hour earlier...when space between himself and Molly had been blissfully nonexistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaall the kissing!! Can't have too much kissing, really. I got a bit carried away but I'm sure nobody's gonna be mad lol. I believe the next one will be the last in this little fic, so I'll be wrapping things up. Hope to update next week some time! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wraps it up! I think this is one of those plots that had the potential to be super long and drawn out and detailed and stuff...that just didn't happen to be what I was going for this time around. Hopefully it still feels properly concluded. Enjoy! ;)

Sherlock smoothed the map out a bit on the hotel table, glancing over at the bed as he did to make sure the rustling hadn’t disturbed Molly. He scribbled notes in his mind. Every word, phrase, name, and location that he’d managed to overhear on that beach. And slowly, very slowly, he began to piece them all together into something logical. Something which told him _who_ he needed to find next, and even more importantly... _where_ he needed to go next.

He took out his mobile and fired off a text.

WE WON’T BE STAYING IN BELIZE ANY LONGER. WE’VE SEEN EVERYTHING OF INTEREST. -SH

It was early morning in London, so his brother responded quickly.

SHALL I SEND A PRIVATE JET? -MH

Sherlock thought for a moment.

YES, BUT NOT FOR ME. I’LL BE HOUSE HUNTING ON MY OWN FROM HERE. THE WIFE NEEDS TO RETURN TO WORK. TODAY, IF POSSIBLE. -SH

Not surprisingly, Mycroft needed no further explanation. He completely understood why there was a point where even he needed to be excluded from intel.

CONSIDER IT DONE. WILL TEXT THE FLIGHT TIME SHORTLY. SAFE TRAVELS, BROTHER MINE. -MH

Sherlock set his mobile down and leaned back against the couch, staring at the spot on the map which he’d marked. The spot which was not home, not London. He had a somewhat foreboding sense that this was the start of the work, and that these previous months had been a drop in the bucket. Things were about to get far more serious. The game was more definitely on now.

Though, he was surprised to find himself a bit reluctant to play...as he glanced over at the petite form in the bed again.

Sherlock stood from the couch then. He walked over to the wardrobe, opening the door quietly and staring at his suits which had been hanging untouched for the past few days. And then he began unbuttoning the flowery short sleeved shirt that he wore and slipping it off his shoulders. No more of this was needed. He couldn’t say how he’d need to be dressed where he was next headed, but it certainly wouldn’t be in Caribbean beach wear.

He quickly changed into trousers and a dress shirt, and then got back to work.

* * *

 

It was around six in the morning when he finally saw Molly sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She took one squinting glance at him and he saw the way her expression began to droop ever so slightly. After a moment of silence she finally spoke, soft but clear.

“What time is my flight?”

Sherlock cleared his throat, refraining from meeting her gaze. “Three this afternoon.”

“Um...ok.”

Her voice sounded small and it made him all the more determined not to look at her as she climbed out of the big bed.

“Sherlock?”

His spoken name did make him turn though, he couldn't help it.

“C-can you tell me where you’re going?” she asked with an almost childlike nervousness.

Sherlock’s gaze fell to the floor in remorse for a moment before looking at her again and answering as evenly as he could.

“No, Molly, I can’t.”

She smiled instantly, too fast really. It was achingly familiar, and he felt the sting of remorse when he realized how often he’d been the cause of such a defense mechanism.

“Right, of course. I mean, I thought so. I just- I thought I’d ask. I’ll just, um...” She gestured toward the bathroom. “I’ll get changed and then start packing.”

Sherlock’s eyes squeezed shut as the bathroom door closed behind her. This was so much more difficult than the rapid farewell they’d shared in London after his faked suicide. He hated that this was so difficult for both of them, and he even began to question whether he should have had her come here in the first place. Could he have managed a convincing undercover identity on his own? Possibly. And perhaps it would have been worth the added risk if he didn’t have to send her home alone as she was feeling right now.

But it was silly to dwell on what couldn’t be changed, he reminded himself. What’s done is done. All he could do now was to move forward.

He very much hoped he’d be able to.

* * *

 

Molly twiddled her fingers almost incessantly as they drove in the taxi to the airfield. More than once he almost reached over and took hold of her hand, just to still them of course. But he didn’t.

“Look, I feel like you’re off to go do things that are dangerous and I realize that you can’t talk about it and you probably don’t want me to know any details,” her voice suddenly erupted through the silence. “But I just- I just hope you know that I...I would help more if you wanted me to. If there was anything more I could do- with you or somewhere else- I’d do it. I- I hope you already know that, but I just thought it should be said.” She sucked in a breath as if speaking those words took quite a lot out of her.

Sherlock smiled softly at her as they felt the car slow at the airfield.

“I know you would, Molly. And I’m grateful for what you already have done. I almost wish I could tell you there was more for you to do...but there isn’t.”

She nodded, looking down at her hands again. “Right. Right, of course not.” She let out a nervous giggle.

Sherlock took the initiative of exiting the cab and letting her out before retrieving her bag from the boot. They both walked slowly over to the plane and he handed her luggage over to the steward before facing her.

“Guess this is goodbye,” Molly initiated and then lowered her voice. “Am I um, saying goodbye to you or...goodbye to my husband?”

Sherlock glanced around the airfield briefly. There was barely anyone around. And anyone else present was hardly close enough to take note of them or what they were saying or doing. But for some reason his answer flew in the face of logic.

“Probably best if we remain consistent with our undercover identit-

Sherlock’s words were cut off, because Molly had leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders to pull herself in snugly against him. He could feel her warm breath as she instantly buried her face in the crook of his neck, and that was when his arms instinctively responded and encircled her in return.

He hadn’t actually decided whether or not the hug was over when Molly began to slide her arms away from his neck and set her feet flat on the ground again. She sniffed a little and looked down while very quickly swiping at her eyes.

“You’re crying,” he noted aloud, before he could stop himself.

Molly shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’m trying to stay in character.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly as he stared at her now tear stained face. He lifted his hands, lowered them in hesitation, but then finally raised them to the level of her face, placing one palm on each cheek. He leaned his head down a bit to press his lips to her forehead before pulling away and instead touching his forehead to hers.

“So am I,” he whispered low.

He felt her hands come up to rest softly on his.

“Do something for me, Molly,” Sherlock said with eyes still shut. He noted that he hadn’t really planned to say this ahead of time, but somehow it seemed absolutely necessary in the moment.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Would you please go back to London and go back to your life...and just be happy?”

She pulled her head away from his, just enough so they could look at each other. He could feel her eyes picking him apart as she simultaneously picked that statement apart. Could she see how much he’d meant to say about what she really meant to him? How she had shown him a glimpse of something that could never truly be?

“I see,” she muttered before obviously biting her tongue from saying more. He almost wished she would have.

A moment more of silence from him and she adjusted the carry on around her shoulder in preparation to walk away.

“Molly, I want you to know…” he stated, quickly stopping her before she turned. “You should know that you are brilliant, and trustworthy, and kind, and a far better...friend than a man like me is deserving of. You were wonderful here these past few days and your assistance was invaluable. And it would ease my mind considerably if I could feel sure that you were back home in London, safe and well...and perfectly content.”

Molly nodded slowly. “I understand,” she finally said, even giving him a small smile.

Sherlock smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Molly.”

“Bye, Sherlock. Be safe,” she said with a final little sniff as she turned.

“Goodbye, Molly,” he whispered in answer, but by then she was climbing the steps into the private jet and of course didn’t hear him.

He stood there for a long time - until the jet was prepared for takeoff and it finally began moving and finally lifted from the ground. He watched as it flew away and disappeared into the sky, and it was only after Molly was gone, truly gone and not even a speck on the horizon anymore, that Sherlock realized why he felt so uneasy. The reason was as simple as it was disturbing.

_He was wrong_.

He knew he was. He knew that the words and the request that he’d just made of Molly weren’t what either of them truly needed deep down. Gently pushing her away and asking her to be happy without him was exactly what hurt and what didn’t feel right, despite that being what his mind assured him was the wisest course. Sherlock knew conclusively at that point that he’d missed something; left something unsaid and instead spoken words that accomplished the very opposite goal. And the reality was that this could mean he’d truly lost her, maybe to someone else by the time he returned to London. Perhaps for now though, that was for the best.

He knew that he wasn’t what someone like Molly Hooper deserved... _yet_.

At the moment, there was work to be done: Moriarty and his chaos still needed to be dealt with and of course there was so much more with himself that needed to be brought up to par. And perhaps even things about himself that he simply needed to _understand_ more fully.

But still, he stood there in the warm sun, still swearing he could smell the hotel soap that she had used, and a slow smile began to form on his lips as he allowed himself the luxury of hope.

Someday, he’d be able to open his mouth and say exactly what it was that he was meant to say to Molly Hooper. He looked forward to a time when he would be able to shut out all the rest of the clambering around him and in his brain, look at her, feel clarity wash over him…and just _say it_.

For now though, the game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this little mini multi chapter! Hope you enjoyed it despite where it left off. No hate, I did give fair warning and tag canon compliant lol! So the only thing I have in the works now is my sherlolly fic exchange assignment. Looking forward to working on that! ;D

**Author's Note:**

> There will likely be a couple more parts to this. Honestly not sure how far I'll take it or how much I'll drag it out but there's definitely potential here. May as well take advantage of it! ;)


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